


never fade in the dark; never let them take the light behind your eyes

by sakura_freefall



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Era, Character Death, Enjoltaire- freeform, Heavy Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Prisoners, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, Torture, and that's saying something, just really sad, probably the saddest thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura_freefall/pseuds/sakura_freefall
Summary: Grantaire and Enjolras are captured after the fall of the barricades.Songfic; song is The Light Behind Your Eyes by My Chemical Romance. I don't own this song, I don't own rights to this song, all that copyright jazz.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Kudos: 17





	never fade in the dark; never let them take the light behind your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for constantly bullying these two.
> 
> They kinda just set themselves up for angst, don't they...

_So long to all my friends, every one of them met tragic ends..._   


Grantaire shifted his weight on the cell floor, the half-light of early morning tearing through his eyelids. The cold stone floor sat covered in dirt and blood, most of it his, the walls were rough and cold, and the only light was from the grated, barred door, too small to fit through the gaps, too solid to punch through.

The edges of the world felt blurry and rough as he pulled himself up. He was alone. Alone and he'd might as well be dead. Wished he was dead. Should be dead. In his mind, he counted off the list of names, the people who were dead already, and not having to struggle through this cursed waiting. Combeferre, who loved math and moths and everything in between. Courfeyrac, who always had a smile to share. Eponine, who'd made something of herself from nothing. Joly, who worried himself sick over diseases and Bossuet who had bad luck in everything but personality. Feuilly, who worked hard and never faltered. Bahorel, who never turned down a drink or a fight. Jehan, who laughed softly and wrote poetry and wore that horrid purple coat. And who knew what had happened to Marius, the easily-distracted man? Probably gone home to his love, that whatever-her-name-was. And Enjolras-

He had not seen Enjolras since his capture three sunrises ago. Likely he was dead already, deemed too unyielding to even try for questioning. He hoped he was already dead- even nothingness would beat this awful, painful existance. But he could not be dead- could not, for surely Grantaire would've felt something, would've known somehow that the last spark of hope had burnt out. But that was not how it worked, was it? Dead or not, there was no hope for either of them. They would either be questioned and then die, or hold their tongues and die all the same. Dead was dead.

_With every passing day, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I miss them all tonight..._   


"Hey, you!" Grantaire backed away instinctively from the clear, commanding voice of a National Guard officer, the same one that had dragged him into this damn cell. He turned towards the door, which had been cracked open, with five different muskets pointed at him. So they were killing him now. A relief, almost.

"Get up, boy. Come with us, and don't think about fighting. There's something- or should I say, someone, you'll want to see." Though the guard's voice was cold and mocking, Grantaire felt a sharp stab of hope flood through him. Could it be? Was Enjolras alive? It was quickly replaced by despair, for surely if Enjolras was alive, he was a captive just like him. Doomed to a horrible existance with certain death.

The man yanked Grantaire up by his arm, gripping firmly onto him, as if to try and prevent an escape. He almost laughed. What fool would try to escape a cell block full of guards? He considered this; perhaps the same sort of fool that would take to the streets in a hopeless attempt to try and overthrow a monarchy.

He was shoved and manhandled through hallways until they reached a locked, closed door. A guardsman pulled a key from his pocket and fitted it through the padlock on the handle before shoving Grantaire inside before shutting the door.

The fall had knocked the wind out of him, and he'd barely gotten off the floor before another guard grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. "Look. Don't you look away for a second or your friend dies."

Grantaire was about to ask him what he meant, but before he could speak, his eyes scanned the room to see his worst fear reflected back at him.

Enjolras knelt, chained to the wall, bloody and bruised, his gold hair covered in dirt and blood, his clothes torn, and his eyes full of utter dispair.

"Enj-"

"Did I tell you to talk, boy?" growled the bigger of the two guards. "I said be quiet. And look." Confused for a moment, Grantaire fixed his eyes on Enjolras, assuming that was what they'd meant. The smaller man pulled a leather whip from his belt, and in a fluid motion, tore Enjolras's shirt and jacket from his back. Tears sparkled in the blonde's eyes as he shook like a dog before the armed man.

And R was frozen to the spot, held there by the burly guard, as the smaller guard began to slice the whip into Enjolras's back. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth hit, he collapsed to the floor, eyes fixed on Grantaire.

"This can stop. Any time. Just tell. We want your name and the names of your comrades. And you to denounce this. We might even let you live."

_And if they only knew what I would say, if I could be with you tonight..._   


Grantaire looked at Enjolras, who gave an almost-imperceptible shake of his head. The meaning was clear. Don't speak. Don't tell. And he knew, that no matter how much he wanted to, that Enjolras would never forgive him if he gave away a word. The beating continued, lash after lash after lash, blood flying across the room, staining the stone floor red.

"Want to talk?"

"No," muttered Grantaire, his heart screaming in protest.

"All right then." They continued to tear into the leader's flesh with the strap, hitting again and again until Enjolras began to moan, and the moans turned to screams. Eventually, all Grantaire could hear was a high-pitched cry, as they turned his back into a mess of blood.

Grantaire didn't know how long this went on, or when he started to cry, or when he began to plead in his mind to please let him go unconscious, please let him pass out, please, please. The minutes ticked by and he realized they were no longer just using the belt, they were beating him with their fists, tearing his hair out in clumps, slapping his face until he cried words that Grantaire couldn't understand.

They'd broken Apollo.

Finally, they seemed to have had enough, because the smaller one spoke up. "We've done enough. Leave him here, he'll bleed out before the morning."

"And what about his... companion?"

"Leave him too. We'll... deal with him tomorrow." Grantaire had no doubt about what they meant by 'deal with him', only that he hoped he'd die before he'd have to see the light go out of Enjolras's eyes. 

They left with a slam of the heavy door, and the click of a lock.

"'Taire..." moaned Enjolras from the corner, voice thick with pain.

"Y... yeah? Wh- what do you n-need?"

"C'mere..."

Grantaire jumped up and raced across the cell, collecting what was left of Enjolras's jacket and shirt, handing them to the other man. "I'm here."

"Help..." he moaned. Grantaire slowly eased the fabric across the mess of Enjolras's back, watching the white linen turn almost as red as the coat. Enjolras pulled the jacket over him, struggling to cover the wounds.

_I would sing you to sleep, never let them take the light behind your eyes..._   


"I'm so sorry, Apollo..."

"Don', don' call me that, R, it's not..."

"I- I don't-"

"Listen, R," he moaned. "You did... you did good. You didn't tell- you did good."

"I wish I would've," he sobbed. "I wish I would've, so this wouldn't have happened to you!"

"No, no you- I don't, you'd never. You're the one who... who wouldn't do..." Enjolras's breath came in shaky gasps.

"Enjolras, breathe! You need to breathe!" shouted Grantaire.

"S'not- not- I can't. Jus'... I'm trying."

"No! You can't leave me here! Don't leave me here, you st- stupid bastard!"

"'M not goin' anywhere..."

"No! You- you need to stay! You- I can't do this alone!"

"Sorry... I- I don't know..." Enjolras's breath was getting fainter every second.

_One day I'll lose this fight, as we fade in the dark, just remember you will always burn as bright..._   


"Enjolras, no! Stay, please!"

"Not leaving. Not- not really. We- tell Combeferre I- I put his notes on the back counter, tell him, if you're sober 'nough to speak?"

"Enjolras- Enjolras, you're hallucinating. Combeferre's- not here."

"Yeah'e'is, what you talkin' bout? Feu- Feuilly, what're you saying? The paper's wrong?" Grantaire figured something must be wrong, if Enjolras was seeing things that weren't there. Of course, he was bleeding out on a cell floor.

"No... Enjolras, it's just... just you and me," he choked.

"Oh, hello, Courfeyrac, where've you lost your hat? Where's Pontmercy?" He paused for a second. "Not here? Ran off with the girl, I tell you. Every time."

"Enjolras, you're talking crazy..."

Enjolras made an attempt to push himself up into a sitting position. "Yeah, Jehan?" he drawled. "Go where? We- the meeting's not over yet!"

Enjolras was barely breathing, and Grantaire didn't try to stop the tears. "R?" he whispered.

"I'm here, Apollo."

"It's you," he muttered.

"Yeah, it's- it's me."

"I- I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"Let you down. Let all of you down, I'm sorry... ah, I should get going, Courf's telling me I'm running late, do- is the- R, why're you crying?"

"Enjolras... they're- they're dead. You're hallucinating."

"No!" shouted the leader in red. "They're right here! Not... not funny, R! Don't- what... I have to go, Joly's yelling at me to get going, so's the girl. I'll see you next meeting, won't I?"

"No! No! Enjolras, don't go! Don't leave me here!"

"Not... leaving. Goodbye, R. Don'- don't be late next time, and do bring the- the book Prouvaire wanted..."

"No! No, no, no, no, no! Enjolras! No! Don't leave me! Don't go!"

It was too late. Enjolras was already gone. R buried his face in the leader's shirt, sobbing. Had it truly had to end like this? All this blood and pain? And... the one person R really loved, taken away from him right in front of his face? It... Enjolras couldn't be dead. Apollo couldn't. He was immortal, was he not?

Grantaire was not sure when he passed from waking to sleeping, but the world turned to shades of gold and red and finally black as his head hit the cold floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Be strong and hold my hand... time becomes for us, you'll understand..._   


The rain battered the pavement as Grantaire ducked into the Cafe Musain. He felt as if something was off- something was not as it should be. But nonetheless he pushed open the door and stepped into the warm, dusty building.

It was empty. Nobody was there except for the leader himself, sitting alone at an empty table, eyes fixed on him. The scene felt strangely blurry, as if coated in sticky honey.

"Ah, Grantaire. Have a seat." With nothing else to do, Grantaire gingerly sat himself on the chair across from Enjolras. "We have much to discuss."

"What? Where are the others?"

"That is of no importance," said Enjolras, a little sharply. "This time is ours, you see. I must tell you something."

"What is it, then? Is this not a matter that can be discussed over wine?"

"No, it is not," clipped Enjolras. "You're well aware that I abhor that habit. As I was saying, I want to tell you this, before it's too late."

"Before what's too late?" Again Grantaire felt that itch in the back of his mind, a crippling sense of dread, that something wasn't quite right.

"Everything. I need to tell you that you are un ami. We all... we all love and care for you as one of us. You have a seat at our table. Do not forget this."

Grantaire felt a warm confusion spread through him. This was all very nice, but why was Enjolras telling him this? "Thank you?"

"But I would like to say something else." Enjolras's blue eyes were fixed on him, and they sparkled in the light. "I would like to mention that I care for you in all these ways and more. You are... you are somebody I would not bear to lose. You are... you are what holds me together."

"What? Why- why are you telling me?!" Grantaire felt his heart speed up.

"We have little time. I must remind you of something else."

_We'll say good-bye today, and I'm sorry that it ends this way..._   


And it came crashing back, Grantaire crying as Enjolras bled out on the floor of a cell, the hallucinations, the beatings, the red staining his hands. He must be dreaming. Dreaming this scene, dreaming the comfort. He tried to steady his breaths.

"I am sorry for leaving you. I want you to know that I do not regret my cause, but I regret hurting you."

_And if you promise not to cry, then I'll tell you just what I would say, if I could be with you tonight..._   


"No- I- please, stay!"

"I am sorry, Grantaire. I cannot take this back, and I would not. But I am here to tell you to keep the faith. Never let them take what makes you _you."_

_I would sing you to sleep, never let them take the light behind your eyes, I'll fail and lose this fight, never fade in the dark, just remember you will always burn as bright..._   


"No... I can't... I believe in nothing, Apollo!"

"I detest the nickname, R. And you do not believe in nothing. I know you. You believe, but you are afraid to tell yourself this."

"I don't-"

"We have little time, ami." Enjolras was already sounding fainter and further away, the Cafe getting dimmer and colder. "I must tell you that it will be worth it. In time, you will see. But you must be strong, I know you can be."

"I can't!"

"You can," he said, already sounding like an echo more than a voice.

_The light behind your eyes, the light behind your eyes..._   


"Please..." Grantaire shook his head. "Please."

"I cannot promise anything. But if you ever cared for me, please do not fade away. Don't let them have the satisfaction." Some of the fire was weaving its way back into his words.

_Sometimes we must grow stronger and you can't be stronger in the dark, when I'm here no longer, you must be stronger..._ __

"I don't-"

"Salut, Grantaire." The words were the last in his mind as the scene blinked into hard stone and hopelessness.

_If I could be with you tonight, I'd sing you to sleep, never let them take the light behind your eyes... I failed and lost this fight, never fade in the dark, just remember you will always burn as bright..._   


The next morning, the guards came with their guns loaded, just as they said they would. And Grantaire stood to meet them, feeling a wind, or an echo, or maybe just a shadow, burning something into his mind. They would not get the satisfaction of seeing him beg.

"Vive la republi-"

Grantaire fell backwards, back into the soft, dim cafe and the arms of his lover.

_The light behind your eyes..._   


_The light behind your eyes..._

  



End file.
